Something Akin to Forever
by theoboefreak
Summary: (SMc-Slash, AU) Five years after the original series, the crew returns to pay respects for a valued crew member...


**Title:** _Something Akin to Forever_  
**Author:** Oboefreak  
**Email:** theoboefreak at yahoo dot com  
**Codes:** Spock/McCoy, (really lightly implied) McCoy/Barrows, Chapel, Kirk  
**Rating:** R (implicit sex)  
**Warnings:** Death-fic, bittersweet-ness, A/U  
**Summary:** Five years after the original series, the crew returns to pay respects for a valued crew member...  
**Feedback:** Loved to pieces. Flames welcome to be laughed at. Critisism makes me immencely happy. Happy, sad, or angry comments are nice, too.

His face is austere as the casket is slowly lowered into the dusty earth. Women sob and cling to anything for comfort: each other, sombre men, and confused children. He and the pastor stand at opposite ends of the grave, blankly staring into the open ground. Flowers are tossed upon the casket as it rests with a gentle thud. Crimson roses. Vibrant daffodils. Pale lilies. Carnations of many colours. The moment, oddly enough, reminds him of a poem in which the beauty of the poet's lover outshines the beauty of the frailest rose.

He remains as the crowd disperses. People greet him as they pass by. Forcing smiles burdened with tears, they say "Hello, Mr. Spock," or "It's been a while, hasn't it?" He offers them simple replies and, one by one, they slide away. When Barrows passes him, she holds him tightly and weeps, hands wringing the back of his shirt. He returns the embrace and comments that it _is_ the appropriate human response, is it not? She is far too tired to bicker with him, and she, too, slips out of his grasp. After a while, he notices Christine sniffling by herself. Warily, Spock walks to her.

"He was a fine man," Spock says, his voice showing no trace of emotion.

Christine glares up at him, crystalline eyes red from crying. "He was more than that, and you know it," she says tiredly, voice quivering with tears. He reaches to hug her, figuring that it would be logical. However, she pulls away. "No," she says, trying to be firm. "I'm strong enough to hold my own."

"Very well," Spock answers, and steps back. Christine sniffs, a few stray tears new on her face.

Spock feels a warm hand on his shoulder. He turns and sees the somewhat distraught smile of his former Captain. "Jim?" he questions.

Kirk shrugs and gapes at the grave. "It's scary thinking he's dead, isn't it?"

"Death is nothing to be scared of," Spock states. "It is merely a simple part of any life cycle." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Christine glare at him and storm off.

"He was one of my best friends. Ever." Kirk closes his eyes, sighing. "I can't believe he's dead."

"Perhaps that is because you do not want him dead," Spock replies, thinking his answer is rational enough.

Kirk opens his eyes and cocks his head. "You don't want him dead, either, do you?"

"It is very unfortunate that Doctor McCoy had to die," is all Spock returns, side-stepping the issue.

Kirk turns back to the grave and closes his eyes. "Why did he have to die?" he mumbles.

"Cirrhosis. He drank too much." His voice is slightly acrid, his eyebrows slanting more than usual. Spock never liked it when McCoy drank.

He remembers the almost constant stench of alcohol around him, rancid and rank. He remembers the stupor that followed after he drank too much, doing things that had absolutely no shred of logic behind them. He can still hear the slurred drawl of words whispering against his ear, words that would have been much more pleasant to hear if McCoy were sober.

"...didn't you, Spock?"

Spock blinks. "Captain?"

"You loved him." Kirk says this with conviction, not asking. "Maybe you didn't realize it, but I think you loved him."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Love," he simply utters, slowly sinking into thought again...

He remembers the feeling of warm, soft lips against his ear. This time, he wasn't drunk. He was scared, though. Spock remembers, however, how quickly the fear subsided as he mutually agreed with the doctor's touches. He recollects that the doctor's mouth tasted clean, faintly of mint. He remembers how he cried out under Spock, clinging onto him. The gentle hands that brushed against his spine and touched him...

"Spock?"

Spock turns, and he feels water running down his face and from his hair. He hadn't noticed that it had started raining.

Kirk opens his mouth to speak, but then shakes his head. "Never mind."

_"Love you, Spock. You're all I'll ever want. You're perfect. God..." Sloppily placed lips against his ear, tongue gently tracing the tip. Spock feels tears smudging against his cheek, and he knows that they are certainly not his. Arms pull him closer, almost with full body-contact. _

"Doctor," Spock says patiently, "we should wait until you are right again. That way, we can enjoy it as much as we did last time. Do you not remember?"

Spock's only reply is McCoy's mouth over his.

Spock silently abhors the taste of brandy, especially on McCoy's tongue.

"I do not know if I can forgive him." It takes a minute for Spock to realize that he spoke those words, and he cannot be certain why he uttered them.

Kirk simply nods. "I still can't believe he's dead," he repeats.

"You saw him dead, didn't you?"

"And so did you. You didn't look like you believed it, either."

_They pant and gradually calm. Spock rolls over and lies on his side, leaning beside McCoy. The latter smiles wearily, closing his eyes and edging closer to him. "Y'know, Spock," McCoy says, "this is something I'll always remember." _

Spock raises an eyebrow. "I would hope so."

McCoy continues talking. "There are a few things in life that people will always remember; highlights that come back to them as they die."

"You are in moderately good health, Leonard, are you not?"

Completely ignoring the question, McCoy continues. "Your daughter's birth. Marriage. Friends. Love." McCoy nuzzles Spock's neck affectionately, causing Spock to blink. "Anything akin to forever."

Spock's fingers curl into a fist. "I must leave," he says, managing to keep his composure. Kirk takes the hint, putting a warm hand on Spock's shoulder before departing.

Spock is alone. He does not know why, but something within him causes him to gaze up into the rain. Large, wet drops fall into his eyes, but he blinks them away. "Forever is a fickle term," he says dryly. "In an instant, that time is gone. Nothing can possibly be akin to forever."

And something deep within himself, with a stubborn chuckle and slight drawl, replies, "You green-blooded hobgoblin! I still can't make a romantic out of you." The rain slows and stalls, and a single sunbeam slips from the clouds.

Spock raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Doctor, Vulcans are not a romantic race."

**FINIS**


End file.
